Who said that popularity is overrated?
by NeedsmoarDelta
Summary: Lola is more than ready to step out of her artistic shell and become the girl she has always to be. The problem is, she attracted the wrong guy. KylexLola, KylexRebecca, StanxLola.
1. Prologue Of 711 and lost charcoal

_A/N: I'm supposed to be writing my novel for __NaNo__ right about now, but this idea popped into my head and wouldn't leave me alone. I know it is a bit short, but it is a prologue. There will be longer chapters, once the insanity known as National Novel Writing Month is over. __Please tell me what you think, constructive criticism is welcomed and highly appreciated. Also, Lola is dressed in the __kodona __style,__ I thought it suited her personality. _

With an old fashioned wooden palette balanced on one thumb and a paintbrush held like a pencil in the other, Lola dabbed thick gobs of oil paint onto the blank canvas, filling the negative space with layers of bright secondary colors. Lola stepped back and squinted, examining her painting with a critical eye. The still life was perfect-perfectly boring. Swirling the brush in a fluorescent yellow, she let her fingers take control, painting a jagged highlight on the edge of the apple that rested in the middle of a medley of fruit and random objects she had come across.

Her honey blonde hair fell past her shoulders in sweaty clumps, she half heartedly brushed it back with a paint stained hand. The room was beginning to grow darker, with streaks pink and orange; the shadows were longer. With a sigh, Lola pushed her painting against the wall. The acrid, stinging scent of turpentine filled the air as she soaked her brushes in the clear liquid, rinsing away the traces of red, blue and yellow that clogged the fine bristles.

Carelessly throwing her paint splattered smock over a wooden chair, Lola shut off the lights and walked up the rickety stairs; stopping only to grab her sketchbook and a stub of charcoal.

Slamming the front door behind her, she gazed at her street. Most nights, she could be seen sitting on her front porch sketching the group of sixth graders that often played street hockey; a round headed Canadian boy their leader. Tonight, however, the street was empty and Lola didn't feel like sitting and drawing lamp posts or abandoned basketballs.

_Maybe I'll go to the 7-11 for a little while_. _It's got to be better than hanging around like a loser, _thought Lola, now determined to get there as soon as possible.

The 7-11 was an icon for the teenagers in South Park; if any big event occurred, nine times out of ten it happened at the 7-11. Couples fall apart, unlikely people hooked up; the7-11 was a haven for gossips and observers alike. Each wall had a purpose: the front was for talking and flirting, the left side was for drinking, the right side was for smoking whatever illegal substance students came across that week and the back wall- well, Lola had never sketched people there, for obvious reasons.

The orange neon sign glowed in the dusky evening light, illuminating the silhouettes of various teenagers leaning, sitting, or standing against the concrete walls of the convenience store.

Climbing onto the hood of a beat up blue Chevy- the citizens of South Park rarely installed car alarms-Lola pulled the stub of charcoal from behind her ear and opened her sketchbook to a fresh page, beginning to draw the form of Kenny drinking God knows what from a glass bottle. Lola's hand flew across the page, trying to capture the smudgy likeness of Kenny thirstily chugging his drink, bottle tipped towards the darkening sky.

A sudden shifting movement caused Lola to drop her charcoal onto the pitch black asphalt below.

"Sorry." A male voice whispered in Lola's ear and her stomach dropped. _No. It couldn't be. There was no way_- "I was wondering what you were doing up here." Kyle Broflovski's deep green eyes met Lola's brown ones. Lola's palms began to sweat and she looked down at her lap, regretting the decision to wear brown knickerbockers and a Victorian style button down vest. She looked like a freak- a girl trapped in boy's clothes that had been the height of fashion a century ago.

"Uh, nothing," Lola managed to squeak, keeping her gaze fixed on her knees.

"It doesn't look like nothing to me."

Was it her imagination or did Kyle's voice have a flirtatious lilt?

_No. Impossible! There was no way in hell Kyle Broflovski would flirt with me. _

Kyle gently pulled the sketchbook from her limp hands, when his fingers brushed against hers they felt electrocuted, similar to the tingling sensation Lola would get when her foot would fall asleep. Flipping through page after page of her incomplete drawings, he whistled softly, snapping her out of her trance like state.

"They aren't really that great," she murmured, blushing.

He placed his hand over hers, protective.

"Are you kidding me? These are amazing. You have a talent."

A small smile graced her features for about a millisecond, the moment passed and she returned to biting her lower lip, a nervous habit she'd acquired over the years.

"You should smile more often."

Kyle leaned in closer, so close she could smell his breath- minty, with a whiff of something harsh (alcohol?)- And her heart pumped faster, anticipating the moment she had dreamt about for years.

"Duuude." Stan's inebriated voice surprised them both; Kyle jerked back as if he had gotten a bucket of icy cold water dumped over his auburn curls.

"Dude, you have seesh thissh," Stan slurred, "Kenny can drink a 'tire bottle of Smirnoff in thirtshy seconds."

"Coming," Kyle called over his shoulder. "Good night, Lola," he murmured, giving her a light peck on the lips before effortlessly hopping off the car and disappearing into the night.

Lola touched her lips with one paint stained finger.

Had that really happened?


	2. Chapter One: Skanks and Lip Gloss

_A/N: Big shout out to my reviewers, for their kind and thoughtful reviews:_

_Emerald's Shine_

_OPL- I hope you don't mind I used the last name you gave Lola, if you do mind, I can change it. _

_Otempora42- You were right; Lola has brown hair. I don't know why I thought she was a blonde….._

_Anyway, I probably won't be able to update until the end of the month because I'm doing two challenges due around the same time. Con-crit is always appreciated. _

Monday mornings. Usually for Lola Mandoval that meant trying to stay in bed for as long as possible, accompanied with muttered profanities and all around procrastination. This Monday, though, felt different; the way one falls asleep and wakes up knowing that something amazing has happened, but can't place their finger on what exactly occurred.

Lola hopped out of bed with the energy of a small child, instead of the dazed, sleepwalking gait that she normally possessed, and spending extra time in the bathroom- scrubbing her nails free of oil paint, putting on eyeliner and straightening her hair before tying it up in the black ribbon she had used since childhood.

There was a calm, self-assured attitude reflected in her brown eyes, a mantra playing over and over in her head.

_Kyle kissed me!_ She thought, giddy with just the mere thought of Kyle Broflovski actually noticing her.

It was an unwritten rule amongst the girls at South Park High School: Kyle Broflovski, Stan Marsh and Kenny McCormick had firsty-lasty status. Meaning that he was always called by both his first and last names in his presence or in the presence of another girl. If another guy was deemed hot enough by a majority of girls, he too would gain the almost god-like status. In meetings similar to the ones they had as children, the girls nominating various guys and a judge looming over them; they debated for hours, rating guys on a scale of one to ten. After the incident with The List in the fourth grade, Wendy prevailed over all the girls. Lola, Red and any of the others involved with the 'Clyde conspiracy' as it was known, were demoted to the far end of the room, their popularity diminished.

It was around this time that Lola started drawing, after a field trip to an art museum in Denver.

That day was always in the back of her mind…………

------

_A long bus ride, with the boys, Stan as their leader, throwing spitballs at a group of girls__ Wendy__ bossing them around like a military general._

_"No! We can't let them getting away with this! Come on girls, let's…let's…." Wendy looked around the bus wildly, hoping for something nearby that could cause carnage when thrown. _

_Wendy's gaze __landed on Stan; he smiled sheepishly and she blushed. "We need to….uh…um….."_

_"Aww, look at the hippie skank getting all hot and bothered." Eric Cartman's Southern drawl floated towards the back of the bus. _

_"Shut up fat boy!" __Stan clenched his fists. _

_" 'Ey__, I'm not fat!"_

_Lola looked up from her station beside the window, where she had been gazing at the passing countryside__ with a bored expression. __Cows. __More cows. __A farmhouse.__More stupid cows.__ This fight was way more interesting than the scenery. _

_"Psst…Lola."__ Kyle hung over the edge of his seat and addressed her. _

_"What?" she asked, sitting up straight and worrying about whether or not her hair looked__ frizzy_

_"Testicles.__ That is all."_

_"What?" __Lola knitted her brows in confusion, __unaware__ that Kyle was quoting Family Guy.__ Instead, her mind was jumbled with thoughts, considering whether or not Kyle was serious, disbelieving that Kyle had actually addressed her, and wondering if boys acted this way when they liked a girl._

_Feeling bold from her menial exchange with Kyle, Lola called out, "Hey Cartman!"_

_"What, skank?"_

_"Your ass is so __fat__ that they should make custom make pants for you, with the words "wide load" stitched on the back."_

_The class burst into giggles, giving Lola a rush of adrenaline she had never felt before. __So this is what it is like to be popular, Lola mused, opening her mouth to say something else to keep the attention on her. _

_Those words never left the confines of her mind. _

_The rest of the class had moved on; they were busy teasing Stan about his relationship with Wendy. Lola knew that they didn't ignore her to be mean, but that didn't stop it from stinging. _

_--------_

_"And here's another painting by some Mexican skank on her period," said Mrs. Garrison, pointing to Autorretarto con Collre de Espinas y Colibri by Frida Kahlo. _

_The rest of the class moved on, Lola saw Wendy running around the museum at a breakneck pace, determined to absorb everything. Lola stared up at the painting, fascinated. It appeared to be surreal__-a dark haired woman with butterflies in her hair and vines (or was it branches?) encircling her neck. Lola continued to stare__ at the painting, transfixed__. There seemed to be much more there, some hidden __emotion that she couldn't see. And for the first time in her life, Lola Mandoval had the urge to pick a paintbrush and create a picture just as complex, a piece of art that would keep people thinking and guessing. _

_------_

"How people can see anything in these mirrors is beyond me," Lola muttered, attempting to apply lip gloss in the dingy first floor girl's bathroom.

The majority of the female population avoided the first floor bathroom; the tiles that covered the walls and floor were once white but had now turned a dismal gray, and the faucets were rusted shut. It was where cigarettes were shared and Kenny would take various girls if the janitor's closet happened to be occupied. The high pitched squeal of the door opening on rusty hinges made Lola cringe, the sound of chipper, overexcited voices grew closer.

Sure enough, Wendy, Powder, Annie and Rebecca Cotswold, newly transferred to the school, were gossiping at a mile a minute.

"So," Wendy leaned over one of the sinks, applying mascara expertly despite the clouded mirror, "what happened?"

"Well," Rebecca pulled a brush out her purse and began to de-tangle her frizzy locks, "he said, and I quote, 'can't wait for Friday, it's gonna be a blast.' And he kissed me goodnight," she squealed a very un-Rebecca like squeal.

Lola barely suppressed a snort. Rebecca had gotten over her whore stage pretty quickly, but she never went back to being herself, for some reason she acted much stupider than she actually was.

"I can't believe Kyle Broflovski asked you out," Powder's voice was bitter, barely disguising her envy.

Lola froze; a glob of lip gloss fell off the applicator and into the sink. Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes, Rebecca's news confirmed what she had known all along: Kyle Broflovski would never like an artsy loner. She couldn't believe that she had hoped, no considered that Kyle liked her. It was obvious he still liked Rebecca, even though they had broken up in third grade.

"Lola? Hello?" Wendy waved her hand in front of Lola's face.

"Yeah?" Lola tried to snap out of it, she was still so shocked over Rebecca's news that she didn't even notice that this was the first time Wendy had addressed her in five years.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Lola smiled the fakest smile she could muster under the circumstances.

"Okay. If you say so." The girls left in a cloud of chatter and perfume.

Lola screwed the top back on her lip gloss and shoved it in the front pocket of her backpack. Popping some gum in her mouth, she turned to leave when she heard a husky voice coming from the far corner.

"I can help you, if you want."

The stench of cigarette smoke filled Lola's nostrils; she coughed and dropped her backpack on the dingy floor, turning to address the person.

The unidentified person stepped out of the shadows and Lola gasped.


End file.
